


Weight of the World (Is in our hands)

by LadyPoly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aggression, Castiel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Drinking, Gen, M/M, Prayer to Lucifer, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5254955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPoly/pseuds/LadyPoly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode 11x06, ticked me off. It seemed to unrealistc towards the end and this happened within10 minutes after I saw it. This was a work of frustration and a hopeful prayer the series will turn out better as time goes on.  Thank you FreeAgentgirl for editing and the title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weight of the World (Is in our hands)

**Author's Note:**

> Dearest Readers,
> 
> It would appear that not only were several of my works copied and posted as someone else’s and that a few people I trusted have also stolen ideas, images created and scenes.
> 
> Should you compare my stories to something I have not said was inspired by a prompt, or that someone has stolen, in the comments of the story please share it with the link, or the place it was and the writer's name or username. I will do what I can to contact them on my own if I need to. Please do not engage them yourselves. If I need help, I will sound the bat signal ;)
> 
> While I have dealt with the people involved the best I can, with the help of loyal reader’s and friends, I have to ask that you please keep this in mind. In the last several weeks it has become very clear to me that the majority of fanfic writers don't understand plagiarism. Stealing ideas without crediting, borrowing quotes, etc and claiming it as your own-- plagiarism. A form of fraud. You cannot take something blow for blow, change the setting and claim that either. An homage is also not done this way, and if you believe so-- it’s still a form of plagiarism.
> 
> When you cite the fandom, the characters etc, you show that you have given credit for the idea. What the writer does next if not stating a prompt and it’s source is their own. The canon ideas are given credit, the divergent is their own.
> 
> Now sometimes similarities inspired by scenes happen, but there is no reason why a comparison of the two should be clear. There is no reason for one writer’s voice to still be evident if you were inspired by their story while claiming your own idea.
> 
> I want to say this didn’t anger me, or hurt me but it did. It infuriated me and to be honest, I didn’t know if I should continue.
> 
> If I am slower to post things now, it is only due to feeling unsure. I am very sorry.
> 
> All my love,  
> LadyPoly

It's raining and around the bunker, a storm rages both outside and in. Each time the lightning flashes and the thunder roars, shadows of tattered feathers and broken wing structure rise up along the walls of Castiel's space. He likes this room. He can attempt to feel safe here, protected with his distractions and the blanket that still lingers with the smell of Dean as he wraps it around himself. 

Pulling his knees close to him, Castiel leans against the headboard, forehead pressing into his kneecaps. Tears slide down his face as he whispers the hunter's name, afraid of the things beyond the bunker door, despite leaving for Metatron, and suffocating in his guilt over his wrongdoings as of late. He knows something is wrong with the Winchesters, knows they're lying and yet he can not bring himself to call them both out on it. 

Castiel's stomach twists painfully at the thought of Dean. His mind racing back to the feel of Dean's hands on either side of his face, then one sliding across his leg, the another on his arm. The grip in the hunter's hands on his shoulder, the dip in his voice when he asks if Cas is okay, tells him he's concerned and wants him better. Cas wishes he could reach out to them, to hold Dean close like he longs to and bury himself away in a hug that he never has to let go from. 

He swallows the broken feeling weighing on his chest, his vision blurry with hot tears. How he wants Dean to play some sort of hero, chase away his newly found fears and just have them start over. Can't they ever just enjoy their time together, allow it to go somewhere before it breaks apart again? They're supposed to be fighting as a team, facing everything together. Some team they turned out to be. Some Angel he is, now afraid of his own shadow, afraid of what happens the next time he feels something and raises his fists, or his blade. Another flash of lightning, another broken sob escapes his lips. He has failed the Winchesters, he has failed himself.

 

The whiskey is a familiar burn amongst the guilt that once again eats away at whatever is still left inside Dean. Leaning back in his chair, he tilts it up on its back legs before staring at the ceiling. Lightning flashes again, the lights flickering and the thunder rolling loudly. He can't bury away his feelings tonight. He can't shake them this time, can't sweep it under the rug. His hands are trembling, shaking as he remembers two experiences, side by side. A non-human creature, once again with eyes upon him, fascinated, watching, studying and growing attached. Saying they're bonded. 

He can't shake the look in Amara's eyes, the sickening twist of his stomach and the blue eyes that flash across his mind when she touched his cheek. He palms the mark on his shoulder with his free hand before his stomach drops. Bonded with one good, and bonded with one evil. Just when Dean thinks he's gotten used to everything the universe can throw at him, there is always a game changer. At least he knows which one he would rather have, if he had to choose, and always he'll choose Cas. Dean sighs and cracks his knuckles.

 

Did they really lock Lucifer and Michael back up for this bullshit?. How was this turning out any freaking better, as of late? Dean sighs and lets the chair fall forward again before glancing towards the discarded trench coat on the back of the chair in front of Sam's laptop that's sitting open. His shoulders sag in defeat. After everything that's happened, how could he snap at Cas like that and once again lie to not just Sam, but freaking Cas, too. 

Dean runs his fingers through his hair in frustration before he hunches forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Dean tries to take deep settling breaths. The storm rages outside filling the space, the ticking of the clock echoing in his ears louder than it should. He gets up to pace, watching the hall as he thinks of Cas holed up inside his room again, this time hiding, never speaking back and never emerging despite their efforts. He thinks of the look in Sam's eyes, the way he looked when he walked away when they spoke upon returning, the way he looks like he isn't comfortable inside his own skin again. The way he sort of looked when his soul was back from the cage and they'd mention 'He who shall not be named' for fear of causing a flashback. 

Dean couldn't believe they were back to this, stuck in this neverending cycle every time things got just a little brighter. What was the fucking point of it anymore? Anger, rage, sadness and betrayal all bubble to the surface from somewhere inside Dean that he hasn't acknowledged in a long time. In an instant, the sound of his glass shattering against the far wall is louder than the storm outside when his voice yells across the bunker that somehow went from feeling like home to a suffocating prison.

 

"FUCK THIS!"

 

Sam flinches when he hears his brother's voice raise above the storm. He pushes away from the railing he had been white knuckling, listening to nature match the feeling inside his chest, and slips into the darkness outside. Lightning flashes and lights up the space around the bunker, the clouds angry. Even the rain hurts as the droplets pound into his skin, across his face and soak him through his shirt. He shivers against the cold feeling and yet somehow finds comfort in it as the familiar feeling of something bitter, something broken and dark rises to the surface. Goosebumps of anxiety break across his skin as he brushes the sopping locks of hair away from his face. 

The roll of the thunder is loud, it seems to shake everything around him, vibrating right through him as the heavens roar. There is something about the way it feels, something familiar in the way it sounds. Lightning once again makes everything around him look eerie and damaged. Even the Impala looks like something from a twisted, black horror scene.

Had it really come to this? Sam stumbles, walking forward, his legs heavy like lead all of sudden, the air gone from his lungs. He can't take a breath and everything starts to spin. Flashes of memory dipped in crimson once again fill his mind, the name on his lips that tastes like nightmares coming forward so easily now. 

"Lucifer..." 

Sam hits the ground as if brought to his knees by some force he can not control. The sound of chains, the clang of metal on metal and the scraping of weapons against the cage walls feel real. His hands come over his ears to try and shut it out, but it fails. Sam is taken back to a place he thought would burn him inside, should he recall it, taken back to the voice he has tried for so many years to forget. 

 

"Lucifer, I think you're my last shred of hope..." Sam gags on his words, his stomach twisting in knots. Was he really doing this? Was he really so desperate? "Your name means light, you were once the Morning Star. That must still count for something, surely. Maybe you can do good again? That makes us the same, I understand it now, I'm not evil but I am broken and so are you. We both have regrets, thing's we want to change. Please, I fear we are running out of time and Dean-- Dean can't help and Cas is afraid." 

Bile threatens to rise in the back of Sam's throat, he clutches at his stomach through his clothing, tries to will the shaking in them away, the nauseating roll of his insides, "If you are the answer we are waiting for, Lucifer, please, please...Let me save them, save everyone. You have to let me save us, then maybe, maybe you can have your freedom like Dean and Cas deserve theirs, my body will be yours."

 

Sam's frustrated scream echoes through the bunker as the storm grows in intensity, every frustrated cry for answers twists in Cas' grace. Lucifer's vessel he may be, but Cas once pulled that body from hell and put it back together. Castiel looks up towards the direction of sound, his heart clenching and his stomach cold. His hand tingles, palm facing up, as he hears Dean throw a chair, hears as it splinters against a wall. Dean yells curses towards his brother, curses at Castiel and every dick move the universe has handed him despite trying to do better. Castiel sobs as the pain in his chest increases and his wings flash broken against the room again. The thunder drowns out his cries for the Winchesters, his frustration towards his Father, for the weight of the love he carries for Dean as it breaks him.

 

Elsewhere, waiting and watchful, an ancient one shakes his head and frowns. The last thing any of them needed was more darkness to deal with. Weren't they drowning in enough of it already? How much did one creature need to endure before they got their rewards? Surely there had to be more than this continuous on earth hell for "Team Free Will". 

Lifting his head towards the darkened sky from his perch far above the Winchesters, far from the angelic alert in Castiel's grace, the Archangel sighs heavily. "You could show up and clean up your mistakes anytime now, Dad," he hisses bitterly, "How many more messes must they clean up before you admit that you did something wrong?"  
A flash of angry lightning sends the powerful shadow of his wings across the space where he stands tall, ready for his moment, to offer assistance to the side he had chosen to fight for many years ago. "Deano is right, ya know. At this point, you're just another deadbeat dad" Gabriel looks down upon Sam screaming at the black, open space like it will give him the answers he needs. He saddens watching them all. 

 

Gabriel decides it's time to stop hiding.


End file.
